The high point of the orientation came when it rained for the first time on the campus. As the smell of rain on parched earth wafted through the air, we rushed out in celebration, having convinced our professor to let us enjoy the rain. The more squeamish were mercilessly dunked and soon so were the willing. First in water, then in slush and mud. Music boomed in the Palaash courtyard. Some danced, others stood by welcoming the rains in their own ways. Afternoon class was forgotten by all but a few. The festivities carried on through the evening. We woke up in the morning to a bathroom full of dead insects. Insects – that bane of the rain that fills MICA’s air and soil and concrete during the monsoons.
Reaching late for class we found that an angry professor (whose first class it was) had departed refusing to teach a bunch of undisciplined students who were 10 minutes late to the lecture. Many apologies later, he condescended to come to class in the afternoon, set us a tough assignment in 10 minutes and disappeared. We slaved the night away at something we did not quite know how to do as the orientation drew to a close.
Each of us discovered the MICA way of life in our own ways. However, anything interesting always seemed to happen at night. Heated debates and quiet conversations, long walks and solitary evenings marked those days.
It was on one such evening, sitting on the main path at well past midnight that I decided to start writing – random thoughts, things I wanted to tell but to no one in particular, musings, questions. There is something about the air here. It has made me quieter, more introspective, sharpened my sense of myself, making me an observer in my own thoughts.
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